Just One Question
by 9aza
Summary: A young woman cornered by the Scarecrow makes a hasty decision. Not quite as serious as it seems.


A/N: I wrote this because of a question that popped into my mind after looking at Scarescrow's design from his Year One comic for the first time. Also I was bored since new episodes of Transformers: Prime aren't starting for at least a couple more weeks and I've been going through a Starscream withdrawal. Please go easy on me, this is the first time I've written outside of the Transformers-verse in years, I have never written for the Batman-verse before, and it's my birthday.

Disclaimer: I only own the nameless victim.

**Just One Question**

A student was standing at the bus stop, with not one other person in sight, on a street illuminated by a single streetlight. Why did she think this was a good idea again? She glanced down at her watch and frowned. It was 9:17 PM. She'd been waiting for the bus for only five minutes. _Just fifteen more minutes_, she comforted herself as she shivered from the freezing winter air. She heard faint noises and quickly glanced down the street.

No one was there.

_Weird. I thought I heard-_

Rustling from the bush behind her interrupted her thoughts. She instantly felt uneasy; the hair on the back of her neck was standing on end. She slowly turned to the bush and squinted her eyes at it, but couldn't see anything odd. She sighed.

_It was just the wind,_ she lied to herself. "No one is out to get me."

"You may want to reassess that statement, child," a rough male voice begged to differ.

The young woman's eyes widened at the voice coming from behind her and she barely held back a terrified squeak. Luckily for her, instinct took over and -without looking back and with no destination in mind- she ran across the empty road, desperate to get away from the man. She couldn't go back to the campus, the man was in her way, so she kept going.

Left.

Right.

Right.

No matter what turns she took, she could still his footsteps thundering after her.

Left.

She stopped and was gasping for air. She regretted not taking up jogging like her mother suggested. But her poor endurance was not why she stopped, no, she stopped because she took a wrong turn and was now standing in an alley way.

"There is no way out, child," the voice rapsed condescendingly.

She turned and saw the silhouette of a tall man wearing a witch's hat. He calmly began to walk closer and she tried to back away, but fell onto her rear and hands. Ignoring the stinging pain, she forced herself to look at the man. He was closer now and she could see him more clearly. Eyes wide, she reached an epiphany: she knew him. How could she not? He'd been on the news plenty enough.

He was the Scarecrow: the self-proclaimed God of Fear, the one who took sadistic pleasure from hearing his "patients" scream in terror, the man who was merely a couple of feet away from her.

She was so screwed.

There was no doubt about it as she scrambled backwards until her back met the cold brick wall. Dear Lord, why hadn't she accepted her best friend's offer to drive her to her parents' house? Why didn't she call her parents to pick her up? Or her aunt? A cousin? Why did she decide to wait those blasted twenty minutes for the bus instead of heading back to her dorm?

Why? Why? Why?

Simple. Because she was an IDIOT!

Now she was trapped with a madman coming ever closer to her, an aerosol can full of fear toxin in his hand. She was paralyzed as she stared at the horrible mask and into that terrible gaze. To keep herself from hyperventilating, she forced eyes to leave Scarecrow's face and focus on something else.

Unfortunately, that something else was the hand holding the fear toxin. As the hand rose to her face, the young student shook in fear and opened her mouth.

Scarecrow's eyes shined with anticipation, thinking the young woman was going to scream.

"WAIT! I HAVE A QUESTION!" She wailed.

He paused. _Did she just-? _

"Please," she begged pitifully, "let me ask it!"

Rolling his eyes in annoyance, he nodded. _She probably is going to ask me why I am doing this or why I targeted her..._

"Very well."

She tried to gather her courage to ask this burning question, but it was taking her longer than she hoped.

"Get on with it!" Scarecrow snapped after a minute.

With that the floodgates opened, and she hysterically asked, "WHY ARE YOU WEARING BLACK NAIL POLISH?"

He just stared at her in shock. "What?"

She continued quickly, unable to stop herself, "Yeah, I mean, what kind of villain wears black nail polish? I mean you're in your thirties and you used to be a professor! I've only seen goths and emo boys wear it, not grown men! It's kinda silly when you think about it!"

Scarecrow's eyes narrowed. _I'm going to enjoy spraying you. _

The fear toxin was released, filling the already panicking student's lungs completely and forcing her to scream as images of killer dolls and maniacs with chainsaws flooded her vision. Through it all, she heard a man laugh in amusement until she thankfully blacked out.

* * *

><p>The young woman later woke up in a hospital room surrounded by family, instead of her worst fears, safely away from Scarecrow. Her family didn't stay for long, the doctor insisting that they leave so she could rest.<p>

A couple of hours passed and she was still exhausted, yet she could not sleep. Something was still bothering her, but what?

She sighed and closed her eyes for a moment, when she opened them, there was another visitor in her room.

"B-Batman?" she whispered, her throat was still sore from her earlier screaming.

The Dark Knight nodded and approached her bedside. "You don't have to worry about Scarecrow anymore, he's back at Arkham now."

She smiled gratefully and whispered her thanks. He disappeared the moment her eyes were off him -an open window being the only sign he'd been in the room- leaving her alone once more with her active mind. She should be able to relax knowing that her attacker was gone, but something was still off and her thoughts would not let her rest until she figured it out. She groaned and banged her head against her pillow. _This was going to be so annoying! _

Suddenly, it hit her. She now knew what was bothering her, and it wasn't the fact that she could've lost her sanity if she hadn't been given the antidote as soon as she had. No, it was something much more unnerving...

_That jerk never answered my question!_

* * *

><p>In Arkham Asylum, Jonathan Crane sneezed in the recreation room.<p>

"Ya okay Professor Crane?" Harley Quinn asked worriedly.

Crane shook his head and replied without a second thought, "I'm fine, child. Just coming down with a cold."

"Well I hope ya don't get too sick."

"It's a cold, I'll be fine."

Satisfied with the answer, the Clown Princess of Crime smiled at the older man and continued to paint his nails.

* * *

><p>AN: Primus, why did I write this? Oh yeah, because I was wondering why Jonathan was wearing black nail polish in his Year One comic.

Anyways, sorry Batman fandom if this wasn't very good and don't worry, this will be the last time I'll write in your fandom (hopefully).

If you liked, then please review.


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